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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23957956">A Secret For Another Soul</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyhostage/pseuds/boyhostage'>boyhostage</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Body Worship, Come as Lube, Hand Jobs, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Bondage, Praise Kink, Probably Not Medically Accurate, Self-degradation, Spit As Lube, brief mention of incest kink, please come equipped with your suspension of disbelief, sex pollen but with some liberties taken</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:33:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23957956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/boyhostage/pseuds/boyhostage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the things to be woken up by in the middle of the night, Dick hadn't expected Jason Todd.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson (mentioned)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>474</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Secret For Another Soul</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hiya folks! I'm just here to ask you to double-check the tags and confirm with yourself that you are a-ok with reading about the things warned above there. If so, continue on! If not, I ask you to please take care of yourself and click out. Thank you very much! </p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dick wakes to the unsettling feeling of being watched. </p><p>His eyes flicker open blearily, squinting into the darkness of his room. </p><p>Despite the potential urgency of the situation, it’s a struggle to force his body into alertness. The round of painkillers and medicine that Leslie has him on leaves him feeling groggy and sluggish, like his brain and body are moving through molasses. </p><p>It wouldn’t be a problem ordinarily, considering that Dick is taking a few days off of patrol to heal, and has sick leave from work, which leaves him to just ooze about at home, achy and irritable and bored out of his mind - but right now, Dick is thinking that yes, it is a great inconvenience. </p><p>The bed dips with the weight of someone perching on its edge, and Dick tenses. It’s only when the whispered voice says, “Dick?” softly that Dick realizes - with some degree of befuddled startlement - who it is. </p><p>“Jason?” Dick says, sitting up slowly. He rubs at his eyes with one hand as he reaches over to click on the bedside lamp. In the dim lighting, Jason stares back at him.</p><p>“Is everything okay?” Dick asks, concern spiking. “What’s going on?”</p><p>“Everything’s fine,” Jason says. Dick can feel his stare drop from behind his domino mask to examine the slight bulge of bandages under Dick’s shirt. “You’re hurt.”</p><p>“Uh, I guess,” Dick says. He rubs at his eyes again, trying to clear the sleep from them. His brain is working so slowly, like it’s ten minutes behind and still happily snoozing away in bed. “Look, Jason, why are you here? At-” Dick glances at his bedside clock, then resists a sigh. He had barely gotten an hour of sleep. “-three in the morning?”</p><p>“I wanted to see you,” Jason says. He seems oddly stiff where he’s perched. Uncomfortable, maybe, but trying to hide it.</p><p>“Ah,” Dick says, still confused. “Why?”</p><p>Jason is quiet for a second or two. “I… wanted your help,” he says, at last. </p><p>Dick can’t deny that a large part of him thrills at that - that Jason would come to him for help, that Jason would trust him enough, that Jason would <em>want </em>to. </p><p>“You did?” Dick says, squashing that part down as viciously as he can. “Jason, I’m not going to be much help to anyone right now.” It stings to admit, but Dick forces himself to say it anyway. </p><p>“I didn’t know you were hurt,” Jason says. </p><p>That makes sense. Jason’s on better terms with the family as a whole, but despite that, Dick doubts that he’s given much in the way of updates on their well-being. Probably something that needs to be rectified in the future. When Dick isn’t injured. And he has more than an hour of sleep. </p><p>Dick worries his teeth over his bottom lip, then throws the covers back and slides out of bed. “Want something to drink?” Dick asks, because he could do with something to warm his hands and jumpstart his brain. </p><p>Jason follows as Dick hobbles awkwardly to the kitchen, flicks on the light, and puts the kettle on. </p><p>“Should you even be walking?” Jason asks, as Dick leans against the counter. He’s peeled off his mask somewhere between the bedroom and the kitchen, and his eyes trace Dick’s form, lingering on the cast on his right leg pointedly. Dick’s fractured ankle, courtesy of one Slade Wilson, Bastard Extraordinaire. </p><p>“It’s a walking cast,” Dick says, distractedly, turning to dig through the cabinet for a pair of teabags and some mugs. “So, yes. What did you need help with?” </p><p>If Jason’s coming to him for something, it must be important. Even if his injuries prevent him from helping Jason fully, he should be able to contribute in some way. Maybe he could try and nudge Jason into going to someone else for the rest of it. Maybe Tim. They’ve been getting along better, haven’t they?</p><p>He feels more than hears Jason come up next to him, and lean his hip against the counter. Dick sets the mugs and teabags down, then crosses his arms over his chest, trying to ignore the ache in his ribs and leg, and how chilly the kitchen feels in his bare feet, boxers, and thin t-shirt. </p><p>Compared to Jason, who’s still dressed in his vigilante gear, Dick feels oddly vulnerable. </p><p>“Jason?” Dick prompts, when Jason fails to answer his question. Dick can feel the heat emanating off his body, and it makes the chill of the kitchen that much more apparent. </p><p>“You really want to help me?” Jason says, a strange note to his voice. </p><p>That stings, a little bit, but it’s not like it’s completely unwarranted. </p><p>“Yes,” Dick says, firmly. </p><p>One second Jason is utterly still, stiff like he’s been this whole time - and the next, he’s pressed up against Dick, pinning him against the counter, mouth covering his in a warm, dry kiss. </p><p>Dick’s brain freezes for a moment, and it takes a second to reboot. When it does, Dick brings his hands up and shoves Jason away. Jason stumbles back, and Dick stares at him with wide eyes. “What was <em>that?</em>” Dick says, startled, voice sharp and loud in the sudden quiet of the kitchen. </p><p>“I think most people would call it a kiss, Dickhead,” Jason says. The shove had put more space between them, but he’s still far too close for comfort. Dick can still feel the heat of Jason’s body pressed against his. </p><p>“Why would you…” Dick trails off, finally giving Jason a proper once-over. God, he really hasn't been thinking. This close, Dick can see the way that the pupils in Jason’s eyes have blown out, leaving a thin line of blue in the iris. Can feel how unnaturally warm Jason is, like he’s burning up with a fever. “Were you hit with something? Sit down, let me draw some blood—”</p><p>“No,” Jason insists. “I’m fine. I just need you to help.” </p><p>Dick eyes him warily, then slides farther away. “I don’t think so,” Dick says. </p><p>“You said you wanted to,” Jason says, stubbornly.</p><p>“How would kissing me be <em>helping</em>,” Dick says. </p><p>Jason shrugs, which, yes, is very helpful. He doesn’t seem much interested in answering Dick’s question, instead stepping closer. Dick eyes the remaining space between them warily. </p><p>Think. He needs to think. </p><p>Jason steps closer again, and Dick takes a deep breath and lets him. He waits. </p><p>When Jason is finally close enough, Dick snags one of the mugs, smashes it over Jason’s head, shoves him to the ground, and then takes off for his room. His phone is on his nightstand. All he needs to do is call Bruce, or Barbara, or Tim—</p><p>Jason catches up with him just as Dick reaches the doorway to his room, and when he tackles Dick, they both go flying. The side of Dick’s face bounces and skids against the floor in a way that promises a nasty bruise, and Dick lets out a frustrated grunt, struggling against the hold Jason has on him. </p><p>“Calm <em>down</em>,” Jason says, sounding exasperated. He shifts, then tightens his grip on Dick. </p><p>The pressure makes his ribs <em>explode</em>, and Dick’s vision bursts with black. </p><p>Maybe he passes out. The next thing he’s sure of, he’s lying on the floor, pinned on his back. Jason is straddling his hips carefully, hovering above him while making gentle shushing noises. It’s then that Dick realizes that he’s been making these little hurt, punched out gasps that sound embarrassingly close to whimpers. Licks of pain run up and down his ribs unpleasantly, and Dick’s leg aches, ankle unhappy with the strain Dick had put on it. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Jason is murmuring, as he places little soothing kisses over the bruise forming on the arc of Dick’s cheek. “Sorry,” he says, in between each one. There’s a barely noticeable slur to his voice. Shards of glass still glitter in his hair, and trails of blood trickle down his face. </p><p>Dazed, Dick pushes at his chest to shove him away. Jason catches Dick’s hands in his own gloved ones, and lowers his head to scatter kisses there, too. Jason’s lips are warm and soft, and the ghost of his breath over Dick’s knuckles makes Dick feel dizzy for entirely different reasons. He tries to yank them away, but Jason holds them firm, and makes a soothing noise. </p><p>The kettle begins to whistle. </p><p>“The kettle,” Dick says, feeling slow and stupid. “The tea.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Jason says, lowering Dick’s hands, while still keeping his wrists encased in a tight grip. Jason’s face looks flushed, and he’s blinking down at Dick in a punch-drunk, spaced out way. “I don’t mind.”</p><p>Yeah, Dick suspects Jason doesn’t mind a <em>lot </em>of things right now. That was the <em>problem</em>. </p><p>“Jason,” Dick says. “You don’t want this. You’re not in your right mind.”</p><p>That Dick is sure of. Jason would <em>never </em>do something like this normally. </p><p>Jason just blinks down at him. “I do,” he says, like it’s obvious. </p><p>“We’re <em>brothers</em>,” Dick says. </p><p>Jason snorts. “Is that what’s bothering you? You’re not my brother, Dickie-bird.”</p><p>Okay, that one hurts. </p><p>As if sensing this, Jason bends down and kisses Dick very gently on the nose, trying to soften the blow.</p><p>Dick stares up at him, heart sinking. “<em>I </em>don’t want this,” he tries. </p><p>“You will,” Jason promises. He brushes a chaste kiss over Dick’s lips, then pulls back slightly, just to stare at him. The shrieks of the kettle grow louder. </p><p>“Wrong answer,” Dick grits out, and he slams his head into Jason’s. Hard. </p><p>He almost regrets it a moment later, when a headache bursts to life, pounding away in time to the throbbing on his forehead, where he hit Jason - but it’s worth it to see the way Jason yelps and reels back, hand coming up to press at his forehead as he glowers down at Dick. </p><p>“<em>Seriously</em>, Dickface?” Jason spits out, annoyed. </p><p>For a second he looks something close to his normal self - less hazy, a little less dopey - but then his eyes dart around Dick’s face searchingly as he rubs at his forehead, and inexplicably, he softens again. </p><p>The kettle screams in the background, demanding attention. The noise makes the ache in Dick’s head worse. </p><p>“That’s alright,” Jason says, softly. He bends down and brushes another kiss over Dick’s forehead, right where he had hit Jason. “Don’t do that again, Dick. You might hurt yourself.” </p><p>Dimly, Dick comes to the realization that he’s shaking. </p><p>He’s tried to hide it, but he’s scared. Has been since he finally grasped what was going on. He doesn’t want to think of why. </p><p>“<em>Stop</em>, Jason.” Dick wishes his voice didn’t sound the way it did - wishes it came out sharper, commanding, in place of the tentative pleading that wobbled out. Dick’s control is slipping right through his fingers, dissipating like dust on the wind, and he doesn’t know if it’s the position, or the circumstance, or some strange combination of the two, but he can’t <em>think</em>. It feels like he’s slipping back, back, back. </p><p>Back to only being able to lie helpless under someone, shivering and useless and weak, blinking away tears. It never mattered how hard he fought. It always ended the same way. </p><p>“Hey.” Jason’s hands are warm on his face, now stripped free of his leather gloves. Dick blinks his eyes open, unaware that he had closed them in the first place. Jason’s eyes are warm and sincere and wrong, wrong, wrong. “I won’t hurt you, pretty bird.”</p><p>“You <em>are </em>hurting me,” Dick croaks, but he can see in Jason’s face that he doesn’t understand. Dick turns his face away and closes his eyes. “Stop,” he tries, again. “Stop, Jason. I want you to stop.” He shoves at Jason’s chest again. </p><p>Both of his hands are caught again in a tight grip, and brought to rest above his head. Jason holds him there easily with one hand, and Dick can’t seem to summon the strength to break free. </p><p>He fixates on that, wondering - almost absently - when Jason had grown so strong. In his mind, Dick can still picture the scrawny boy who first came to live with Bruce - gangly limbs and hands too big for his body, a crooked grin and bright eyes. </p><p>Now Jason has grown into his gangly limbs and his too-big hands, and he’s taller than Dick, and broader, too - not built like a gymnast, but like a brawler. Like Bruce. </p><p>Dick misses that boy. He wishes he got to see him grow up. </p><p>Dick’s eyes fly open when he hears the <em>snick </em>of handcuffs, and feels the cold metal snap around his wrists. </p><p>“<em>Jason</em>,” Dick says, and tries to tug his hands free as Jason cups Dick’s face with both hands once more. The handcuff chain catches on something, and Dick glances up and huffs out a single hysterically amused breath. </p><p>Jason has handcuffed him to the leg of his bed. </p><p>“Really?” Dick croaks out, because he has to say something. </p><p>He could get out, if he gathered his scattered thoughts and focused long enough to stop his hands from shaking. He could get out. </p><p>Why isn’t he getting out?</p><p>“It’s okay,” Jason says, like that word has any meaning. He leans down and kisses Dick, softly, then does it again, and again, and again. Chaste and soft and slow, like Jason is trying to soothe him, to calm him down. </p><p>Dick keeps his mouth pressed closed tightly, and turns his head as far away as he can. Jason presses his head back into place with a hand, gentle but firm, and continues to scatter kisses over his face. Brushed over his hairline, pressed into the tip of his nose, the edge of his jaw. </p><p>“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Jason says, the confession whispered between kisses to the corner of Dick’s left eye. </p><p>Dick trembles underneath him. He didn’t need to know that. He didn’t want to know that. Why did Jason say that?</p><p>He feels sick. </p><p>Jason presses another kiss to Dick’s mouth, and lingers there, lips parting as the tip of his tongue traces curiously over the seam of Dick’s lips. Dick keeps his mouth firmly closed, pressed into a thin, unflattering line as he fights the urge to squirm uncomfortably. </p><p>Jason’s other hand slips down, and Dick stiffens, then lets out a surprised gasp as it slips under his shirt and trails up, thumbing gently at a nipple. Goosebumps rise on Dick’s skin as Jason’s thumb runs slow circles, and his tongue takes the opportunity to slip into Dick’s mouth, exploring tentatively. </p><p>It doesn’t feel bad. Dick is pressing up into the kiss before he can think better of it, his tongue sliding along Jason’s. Jason lets out a small noise, and the sound sends Dick hurtling back down. He flinches back, breaking the kiss and turning his face away from Jason again, to hide it in his shoulder. </p><p>Jason makes a small disappointed noise, and urges Dick back. “C’mon,” he cajoles. “You were being so good, Dickie.”</p><p>Dick jerks and chokes, color flooding his cheeks as heat curls low in his stomach. Jason pauses, and watches his reddened cheeks with interest. “Yeah?” He asks. “You like that?”</p><p>“No,” Dick says.</p><p>“Aw, don’t lie,” Jason says, and ducks down to nibble at Dick’s jaw. He blows a puff of air against Dick’s ear, and Dick can feel his grin against his skin as Dick squirms. “You want to be good, Dickie? Want to be told how good you are? Is that it?”</p><p>“<em>No</em>,” Dick says, again, voice cracking slightly. He can’t hide the way red stains his cheeks, or the way he jerks up against Jason, cock twitching and chubbing up with interest. </p><p>Jason tugs at his earlobe gently with his teeth. “I don’t mind,” he says. This close, Dick can hear how sloppy the words sound leaving his mouth, how easily and loosely they slide out. Dick hasn’t had the opportunity to see Jason intoxicated, but he thinks that this is how he would sound. “You <em>are </em>good, Dick. So good.”</p><p>He turns Dick’s head toward him and pulls him into another kiss, slipping his tongue into Dick’s slack mouth. Dick goes along with it for a few seconds, mind going hazy and quiet, until he realizes what he’s doing, and he bites down on Jason’s tongue.  </p><p>Jason recoils, hand coming up to slam over his mouth, to prod at his tongue. “<em>Ow</em>,” Jason says, the word sounding thick. </p><p>Dick stares up at him, jaw set, utterly unapologetic. </p><p>Jason pokes at his tongue for a few more seconds, then shrugs. “Alright,” he says, sounding amused. “No tongue. Not your thing. I get it.”</p><p>“You really don’t,” Dick says. “Jason, let me go. You aren’t in your right mind.” </p><p>Maybe if Dick repeats that enough, it’ll finally get through to him. </p><p>“But if I was, this would be okay?”</p><p>Or maybe not.</p><p>Dick splutters for a moment. “<em>Jason</em>,” he says. “You’re my <em>brother</em>.”</p><p>“Well, if you’re into that,” Jason says, indulgently. He traces a finger around Dick’s chest absently, and smirks down at him. “Are you, <em>big brother?</em>”</p><p>Dick is speechless. </p><p>Jason huffs out another laugh at the look on Dick’s face, then says, “Guess not.” There’s a rueful edge to Jason’s voice that Dick doesn’t want to examine too closely.</p><p>Almost curiously, Jason shifts back and carefully grinds down on Dick’s cock. Dick squirms uncomfortably, trying to press himself as far away from Jason as he possibly can. </p><p>“You’re still getting hard, though,” Jason says, approvingly, and his thumb rubs softly along Dick’s unbruised cheekbone. </p><p>Shivers wrack their way through Dick’s body, and he flushes with humiliation. It’s not because he’s turned on. It’s just how bodies work. Enough stimulation and friction in the right places, and <em>anyone </em>would get hard. It doesn’t mean anything. </p><p>He tugs at the handcuffs helplessly, and listens to the cheery jingle of the chain. He needs to be getting out. He should be getting out. </p><p>Jason leans down to bite and suck at where the curve of Dick’s neck meets his shoulder, and with a shiver, Dick’s head falls back. He closes his eyes. </p><p>“That’s it,” Jason whispers, the soft words curling against Dick’s throat with a warm puff of air. “Be good for me.”</p><p>Heat sparks up his spine, spreading through him like a wildfire. </p><p>He can get out of the handcuffs. He should be shoving Jason away right now, should be finding some way to immobilize him and get him the help he needs. </p><p>Instead he just lies there, limp, letting Jason suck hickeys into his neck and grind down on him.</p><p>The kettle screams, and screams, and screams. </p><p>It’s only when Jason makes a pleased noise, unlatching his teeth from the tender flesh of Dick’s neck, that Dick realizes that he’s fully aroused now, boxers tented with the shape of his erection. </p><p>He hears the sound of a switchblade flicking open, and Dick’s eyes shoot open, alarmed. </p><p>“It’s alright,” Jason soothes, as he brings it down to cut carefully at the collar of Dick’s sleep shirt. “I’m just getting you out of this.”</p><p>“I like this shirt,” Dick says, stupidly, as Jason cuts it away and slips it out from under him, tossing it to the side. </p><p>“It looked good on you,” Jason agrees, putting the switchblade away and running a hand down the newly revealed skin. His eyes darken as he examines the carefully wrapped ribs, the bruises spread across Dick’s chest and stomach. “You got hit bad, pretty bird.”</p><p>“We’ve had worse,” Dick says. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. There’s a numb sort of buzz washing over him, and Dick feels dumb and slow and clumsy with it. </p><p>“Yeah, but still,” Jason says, and he runs a soft, gentle hand around the edge of the bandages. </p><p>After he’s satisfied with examining Dick, Jason scoots down, and gently tugs Dick’s boxers down and off his legs. Then Jason just sits there and stares, drinking him in. Dick would feel self conscious, if he could feel anything. </p><p>Dick can get up. He can move. He can kick Jason’s lights out. </p><p>He doesn’t. </p><p>He just lies there. </p><p>Useless. Completely useless. </p><p>Jason’s hand reaches out to gently circle Dick’s foot, and he lifts it, keeping eye-contact with Dick as he turns his head just enough to press tender lips to his ankle. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” Jason whispers, his breath puffing against Dick’s ankle. He sounds awed. </p><p>Dick’s leg jerks in Jason’s grip, and Dick closes his eyes and turns his head into his shoulder. </p><p>Jason breathes out a laugh, and presses another kiss to Dick’s ankle. “Don’t be embarrassed,” he says. “You don’t have any reason to be.”</p><p>Dick keeps his eyes closed as Jason kisses up his leg, keeping it slung over one of his broad shoulders. He pauses at Dick’s inner thigh for a few minutes to suck dark marks into the skin there, pulling back every now and then to admire his work. When he’s finally satisfied, he lifts Dick’s leg off his shoulder - giving it a final, fond squeeze - and turns to the other one, careful to be gentle with the cast. He’s murmuring things into Dick’s skin as he goes, smearing the words with his messy, open mouthed, worshipful kisses. Dick only catches fragments of what he says, but it’s still enough to make the flush on his chest and cheeks darken, and for Dick to try and burrow further into his shoulder, to block it out. </p><p><em>Stop</em>, Dick wants to say. <em>Stop</em>. He doesn’t want to hear about how beautiful Jason thinks he is, or how strong, or how <em>good</em>. He doesn’t want to hear how scraped raw and honest Jason sounds. He doesn’t want to be turned into this trembling, useless creature. </p><p>Jason runs his hands over the top of Dick’s thighs, smooths them over the sharp curve of his hips, and ducks his head to lick up Dick’s length. Dick jerks, eyes fluttering open with surprise, a small, soft sound forcing its way out of his throat as Jason takes the head of his cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it with a satisfied hum. </p><p>Dick looks down the length of his body, just far enough to be confronted with the sight of Jason between Dick’s splayed legs. His eyes are closed, but, as if sensing the weight of Dick’s gaze on him, they flutter open and lock with Dick’s. </p><p>Dick can’t help the way his cock twitches. Jason might be Dick’s brother, but Dick isn’t <em>blind</em>. He knows how good looking Jason is, and he especially knows it now, with Jason’s lips stretched wide around his cock, his wide, dark eyes looking up at him. </p><p>Jason looks almost smug as he ducks his head down further, taking Dick’s cock deeper until his nose is pressed against the thatch of thick, dark curls above the base of his dick. Then he stays there, throat fluttering around Dick’s cock, hot and tight. Dick’s hips try to thrust up involuntarily, but Jason’s hands keep them firmly pinned down, his throat vibrating around Dick with what must be a laugh. </p><p>He slides up and down slowly, languorously, taking his time. The slow drag of his lips and tongue leaves Dick trembling underneath him, fighting to keep still, to not chase after the warmth of Jason’s mouth, the tightness of his throat. </p><p>Jason’s thumbs stroke soothingly over Dick’s hips, and he finally pulls off with a pleased sigh, pressing one last open mouthed kiss to the head of Dick’s cock, before continuing his slow crawl up the rest of Dick’s body, kisses open mouthed and wet and sloppy. He seems intent on mapping out every inch of skin he can, running over it with greedy fingers, tasting it with a coveting, seeking mouth. </p><p>He’s so warm on top of Dick, a blanket of inexhaustible heat. Dick lets himself float. </p><p>“Dickie,” he eventually hears Jason murmur, as he slides a hand under Dick’s head and massages at the nape of his neck. “Hey. Look at me.”</p><p>Dick flicks tired eyes open, and Jason stares down at him, face flushed, looking dazed. His eyes are so dark, Dick can barely pick out the ring of blue in them, and his mouth is wet and red. Dick can’t stop staring. </p><p>“There you are,” Jason breathes. Dick feels his hand slip between them and wrap around Dick’s cock, pumping it slowly. A whine quivers its way out of Dick’s throat, and Jason lets out a shaky breath and kisses his nose, smiling loosely as Dick blinks blearily back at him. </p><p>The hand around the back of Dick’s neck slides to cup his face, and Jason’s thumb skirts his lips, dipping in briefly to run along his tongue. </p><p>“I bet you don’t even know how you look right now,” Jason murmurs. The sound of Dick’s cock fucking his fist is obscenely loud. Dick’s leaking so much. “Do you?”</p><p>Dick shakes his head slowly, Jason’s thumb catching on his lips again and sliding back in. </p><p>“It’s alright,” Jason says, as he slowly fucks his thumb in and out of Dick’s slack mouth. “I won’t tell anyone.” He ducks and kisses the corner of Dick’s lips, and says, “It’ll just be between us, Dickie.”</p><p>There’s a hazy quality to this moment that makes it feel like a dream - the defeated, dwindling shrieks of the neglected kettle from the kitchen, the humiliating wet sounds as Jason’s pace on his dick quickens, Dick’s hips making little abortive thrusts upwards, chasing the friction. The rising heat, the quiet sounds that Dick tries to stifle, the clenching in his stomach as the pleasure twists higher and higher and higher. </p><p>Dick’s eyes squeeze shut and his mouth falls open, Jason’s thumb still pressing down against his tongue as the pleasure finally begins to spill over, and he empties himself into Jason’s hand with a shudder. </p><p>Jason exhales, shakily, and Dick opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. He isn’t going to cry. </p><p>He can’t hear the kettle anymore. He isn’t sure if the realization is relieving, or if he should be concerned. </p><p>“Jesus, Dick,” Jason says, and presses a bruising kiss against his lips. </p><p>Dick lets Jason do what he wants. He feels tired now. Orgasms always make him sleepy, and Jason had woken him up in the middle of the night. </p><p>He’d been tired before all of this had started in the first place, though, so maybe tired wasn’t the right word. </p><p>He feels exhausted. </p><p>Time is hazy. Dick drifts again. At some point, Jason pulls away, and Dick listens to him shedding his clothes and gear, before Jason drapes himself over Dick’s body once more, soft skin against soft skin. Fingers slip into Dick’s mouth, and Dick sucks on them instinctively, without being asked. </p><p>Jason laughs a little at that, but it doesn’t sound mean. “Just like that,” he says, and pushes them deeper, just to see Dick gag around them. “You’re doing so well.” </p><p>He tugs them out after a while, and Dick doesn’t connect the dots until Jason spreads his legs further, and he feels Jason’s wet finger circle around his hole, then push in gently, just up to the first knuckle. </p><p>Dick lets out a cry, brought abruptly back to reality, and he tenses, feet kicking ineffectually at the floor as he tries to scrabble away. “Stop,” he rasps. His voice breaks when he says, “Jason, <em>please</em>.”</p><p>“I won’t hurt you,” Jason says, and he doesn’t stop, because Jason isn’t home, and Jason would <em>never</em>—</p><p>Jason would never. </p><p>Dick chokes on a dry sob. It’s only by sheer willpower that no tears drip out of his eyes. He’s not going to cry. He’s not. </p><p>Jason fingers Dick open with nothing but spit for lube, one finger becoming two becoming three, and it’s horrible, and disgusting, and it feels <em>good</em>, because Jason knows just how to spread and crook his fingers, and where to aim and rub, and he keeps up a running commentary, telling Dick that he’s so tight around his fingers, and that he’s taking them so well, he’s being so <em>good </em>for Jason—</p><p>It’s too much. All of it is too much. Dick clutches desperately at that hazy, numb feeling, wrapping it around himself like a cloak. He doesn’t feel anything. He’s not here. </p><p>The cloak is tugged away when he feels the blunt head of Jason’s cock prodding at his entrance, and Dick tries to squirm away again, chest heaving with panicked breaths. He can’t go far, not with Jason’s hands on his hips dragging him back into place, but he tries anyway. Jason brushes a sweet, sweet kiss over his mouth. “I won’t hurt you,” he says, again.</p><p>And he pushes in. The stretch burns, and spit isn’t the best type of lube for a reason, but the slide of Jason’s cock is steady, slow enough that Dick can breathe through it, clenching his hands tight around the chain of the handcuffs. </p><p>Jason doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated, hovering over Dick, holding himself up with his forearms on either side of Dick’s head. He bends his head to mouth away the sweat dripping down Dick’s temple, and nuzzles his nose ever so gently over Dick’s hairline. “Are you ready?” He asks, and Dick blinks up at him. </p><p>Jason must take that for an answer, because he pulls out, about half-way, and gives an experimental thrust. Dick lets out a gasp, and his hands jerk helplessly in their cuffs. “That’s it,” Jason murmurs, and he does it again, and again, and again, pace gradually increasing until he’s fucking into Dick like a piston, Dick helpless to stop him. </p><p>The handcuffs jangle above his head with the movement, and Dick winces as his ribs are jostled unpleasantly, but now that he’s in him, Jason can’t seem to stop, or slow down. He just pounds into him, eyes closed and mouth parted in an endless moan as he uses Dick’s body and chases his own pleasure. </p><p>These punched out, breathless, humiliating gasps are forced out of Dick’s mouth every time Jason pulls out, then slams back into him, like Jason’s fucking the air right out of his body. Dick feels lightheaded with it, and he knows his cheeks have turns a flushed, heated pink, eyes lidded heavily as he stares up past Jason, focusing on the subtle cracks he can see snaking through the ceiling. </p><p>Dick is half-hard again when Jason’s pace stutters, and he ducks his head down into the crook of Dick’s neck, biting down roughly as he buries himself to the hilt. He stills, then, and Dick can feel a rush of warmth fill him as Jason comes. </p><p>For a second, Dick thinks that might be it. That’s the worst of it, it’s over, it’s done - but Jason is still hard inside of him, not softening at all, and he’s pressing kisses to Dick’s neck, licking over the bite mark as he mumbles something, seemingly not appeased in the least. </p><p>So, no, it’s not over, because Dick’s luck isn’t that good. </p><p>Instead Jason reaches down and hikes Dick’s good leg over his waist, curling it over him as he slowly pulls out, then pushes back in. </p><p>There’s a squelching noise, the slide of his cock easier now with his come to slick the way. Dick lets out a feeble sound of protest, but Jason just strokes a hand up his flank soothingly, and keeps going. The angle of his hips changes, no longer just mindlessly seeking out his own pleasure, until he finds the spot inside Dick that makes him gasp and see stars. </p><p>Jason’s barely-there stubble rubs against Dick’s cheek as he pulls his head up and looks at Dick. Dick barely recognizes him, this softer version of Jason, with his face loose and relaxed from pleasure, all the years of pain and misery melting off him, leaving him younger and happier.  </p><p>It’s a good look on him, Dick thinks, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. The only thing that detracts is the high, hazy look in his eyes, so different from Jason’s normally sharp, clever gaze. </p><p>Jason makes a brief, unsatisfied noise, and rests his forehead against Dick’s. “Don’t be shy,” he says, as Dick tries to stifle his noises. “C’mon, Dickie-bird,” and he punctuates each word with a rolling thrust of his hips. “Let me hear you.”</p><p>Dick shakes his head, twisting away to bury it in Jason’s shoulder, trying to hide. </p><p>He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to remember. He doesn’t want to think about what this reminds him of. He’ll just hide here, in the warmth of Jason’s body, until this is all over. </p><p>“Huh,” Jason says, still petting Dick’s flank absently. “Never really pegged you for the quiet sort.”</p><p>Dick flushes. “Never thought you’d be so goddamn chatty,” he rasps. Jason shivers as Dick’s lips brush over his skin. </p><p>Dick had never thought about Jason in this context at <em>all</em>, if he’s being completely honest. </p><p>His words make Jason laugh. “Like you don’t like it,” he says, and turns his head to press a wet kiss to Dick’s cheek. </p><p>And Dick flushes again, because Jason’s right. </p><p>He doesn’t want to like it, though. That counts for something, doesn’t it?</p><p>Dick closes his eyes, and muffles his quiet sounds in Jason’s skin as Jason rails into him tirelessly. He doesn’t want to think, he doesn’t want to think, he doesn’t <em>want </em>to—</p><p>But he already is. </p><p>The burn of a beard against his skin. A low, deep, rumbling voice. Broad shoulders and white hair. Hands, holding him down. <em>Good, little bird. Good.</em></p><p>Dick shakes. A moan spills out, loud and long, and Jason freezes for a moment, before chasing after that noise with renewed vigor. </p><p>With the dam broken, Dick can’t seem to stay quiet. His voice fills the room, loud and pleasured and humiliating, absolutely humiliating. </p><p>God, Dick doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to like it. He doesn’t want it to feel good, he doesn’t want to sound as though it’s pleasing, or look as though he’s enjoying himself. </p><p>Dick doesn’t want it now, and he didn’t want it then, or any time after. </p><p>But it feels <em>good</em>. It felt good the first time, and the time after that, and every other time that followed since, and it feels good <em>now</em>. It’s horrible, it’s disgusting, it’s shameful, and it always, always feels good. </p><p>He doesn’t want it. He’s never wanted it. </p><p>It doesn’t matter what he wants. </p><p>For some reason, that’s the thought that breaks the camel’s back. </p><p>Dick starts to cry. </p><p>Jason pulls back slightly, when he feels the wetness on his skin, and hears Dick’s shuddering breaths. He wipes under Dick’s wet eyes with the pad of his thumb. He doesn’t stop moving though, doesn’t stop filling Dick up with his cock, doesn’t stop making it feel good. He just wipes at it, then kisses the tears away. </p><p>“God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs, and he seems fascinated with the way the tears drip down Dick’s cheeks. </p><p>Slade liked it when Dick cried, too. </p><p>Slade had told him so, once, when he had held Dick down and forced his cock down Dick’s throat. Dick just cried so pretty, he said. Like he was asking for it. Slade couldn’t help it. </p><p>Thinking about that makes Dick cry harder. </p><p>“Shh,” Jason coos. “Shh, pretty bird.”</p><p>He tucks Dick’s head back into the crook of his neck, and holds him as the sound of Dick’s sobs intermingle with the wet, slick sounds of Jason pounding into him. He feels Jason speed up, feels him still, feels him come again, dick twitching and throbbing inside of him. Then it starts over. Dick’s still crying. </p><p>Eventually the tears run dry. Dick doesn’t know how long it’s been, but Jason’s still fucking him, and Dick’s still hard, rubbing and leaking against his and Jason’s stomachs. </p><p>It feels good, overwhelmingly good, and Dick hates himself, but he’s so tired, and he <em>wants</em> this. He doesn’t want to, but he <em>does</em>—</p><p>He needs to—</p><p>This is happening, again, and Dick wants it, again, and that—</p><p>The pleasure pleasure combined with the pain and guilt and <em>shame</em> manage to make a few more tears leak out, and Dick shakes and shakes and shakes. </p><p>Jason makes soothing, crooning noises, and he doesn’t stop moving. “Almost,” he pants, pressing a kiss to the side of Dick’s head, where sweat has plastered the strands of his hair down. “Almost there. So <em>good</em> for me, Dickie. Taking me so well.”</p><p>Dick makes a desperate whining noise, heat curling low in his belly. </p><p>“Jay,” he says, helplessly. It’s all he can say.</p><p>That drags a pleased noise straight out of Jason’s chest, a gentle rumble. Dick rubs his sweaty, wet face against Jason’s shoulder, and says his name again. Shame floods Dick’s chest, but that only serves to drive him higher too. </p><p>Fuck, but Dick wants to come again. </p><p>He wants to worm a hand down between them to grip his cock, but the handcuffs catch when he tries, and he lets out a frustrated noise, clenching his leg tighter around Jason’s waist so he can bring them closer and grind up against him. </p><p>Jason seems to get the hint, though, because he’s swift to fit a hand between them instead, wrapping it around Dick’s cock, making him moan. </p><p>“That’s right,” Jason says, voice low. He presses a kiss once, twice, to the side of Dick’s face. “I’ll make you feel good.”</p><p>Dick’s toes curl, and he buries his face further into Jason’s shoulder as he strokes at him. </p><p>God, he’s disgusting, he’s so fucking disgusting, so—</p><p>“—amazing,” Jason breathes. His other hand tugs gently at the strands of hair at the nape of Dick’s neck, before spreading out over the back of it, cupping it carefully, holding Dick close to him, like he’s something fragile, something precious. “Always so infuriatingly perfect, Dickie. Can’t stand it sometimes, how good you are.” Jason thrusts into him harder at those words, and Dick can’t help the way his eyes roll into the back of his head, or the broken moans that spill out of his mouth. </p><p>He can’t take it anymore. He pulls away from Jason’s shoulder to catch his mouth in a bruising kiss, stalling the flow of words coming from Jason, preventing anymore of the goddamn <em>praise </em>from falling out. </p><p>He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want it. </p><p>He does want it. </p><p>He doesn’t deserve it. </p><p>Dick whimpers into Jason’s mouth, kiss turning sloppy as he fucks up into Jason’s fist. He can feel drool escaping the sides of his mouth, and Dick pulls back, tries to clean it away. Jason stops him, eyes half-lidded and intent on Dick’s face. </p><p>“You’re gorgeous,” Jason tells him. “You’re always gorgeous.”</p><p>Dick just shakes his head and gasps, mouth slack as Jason pulls him into another messy kiss. </p><p>He’s so close. His toes curl, and the pace of the hand on his cock is frantic now, matching the rhythm of Jason’s hips. </p><p>The pressure builds, and builds, and with a clever twist of Jason’s hand, Dick comes. Jason swallows down his moan, stroking him through it until Dick squirms, oversensitized. </p><p>Then Jason drops his hand to Dick’s hip, gripping it in a way that promises bruises as he pulls Dick up and down on his cock. Dick just floats, content to lie there and let Jason do what he likes with his body. </p><p>When Jason finally comes, hopefully for the last time, he bites down on Dick’s shoulder again, <em>hard</em>. Dick yelps, and Jason licks at it apologetically, kissing the blood away. “Sorry,” he mutters, head dropping down onto Dick’s shoulder. It seems he’s finally exhausted. </p><p>He lets Jason lie on top of him, softening dick still buried to the hilt in him, and listens to the way Jason’s breathing evens out to sleep. </p><p>He stares up at the ceiling, and then starts working on getting out of the handcuffs. </p><p>It turns out that it’s easy, after all. </p><p>Dick rotates his wrists slowly, rubbing feeling back into them. Then he wraps his arms around Jason, rubbing a hand up and down his sweaty back, petting at his nape. </p><p>His fingers run hesitantly through Jason’s hair. </p><p>Dick closes his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jason,” he croaks out. “I’m sorry.”</p><p>The tears come easier this time. They leak out of his eyes, run down his face, and pool in the space where his cheek meets Jason’s hair. </p><p>Eventually, Dick swallows, and pulls himself back together with one final shuddering breath. Jason is warm and sweaty on top of him. The weight of his body hurts, but the pain is grounding, and it helps stop Dick’s thoughts from drifting. He runs his hand through Jason’s hair again, playing with the white streak absently, and picking out a small shard of glass. </p><p>A few more minutes pass before Dick is able to gather the strength to push Jason off and to the side. Jason slips out of him as he goes, and Dick can feel the rush of come following swiftly after. </p><p>He presses himself up to a sitting position, wincing, and struggles to flip Jason onto his back, a somewhat more comfortable position than laying face down on the floor. Eventually, he manages it. Ordinarily, such an act would definitely wake Jason, but he doesn’t stir. </p><p>Dick picks himself up, then limps slowly, haltingly, towards the bathroom, gritting his teeth against the pain and using the wall for support. He rustles through his medical supplies, wets a washcloth, then drags himself back. He goes on autopilot as he preps the needle and draws some of Jason’s blood. The bandaid he puts on the crook of Jason’s elbow is a bright, obnoxious neon yellow, with a cheerful smiley face in the center. </p><p>Dick tucks the vials of blood away in the medical kit for safekeeping, and then plucks the glass from Jason’s hair, and washes the blood and sweat and come from his skin, then slowly, painfully, drags Jason onto the bed. </p><p>When that’s done, Dick stares at him for a long time, legs shaking and trembling under him, before he collects a change of clothes and turns and limps back to the bathroom. </p><p>Fuck, but everything hurts. </p><p>He flicks on the light, and then braces himself against the sink, staring into the mirror. </p><p>Tussled hair, a bruised face, dark hickeys scattered everywhere up and down his body. The bite mark on his shoulder, clotting with dried blood. His eyes look sunken and swollen, red and bruised. There’s no light in them, just a dull flatness. Dick tilts his head, almost fascinated by that. He can feel the tenderness of his hole as he shifts, and the soreness of his back and hips, the sticky wetness that drips down his thighs. </p><p>Dick trips his way to the toilet and throws up, then turns the shower on and steps into the spray, not bothering to wait for it to heat up. He’s not supposed to get his cast wet, and it’s probably not a good idea to soak his bandages through, either, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He cleans himself perfunctorily, efficiently, and is out before the water manages to get anything more than lukewarm. </p><p>He shoves himself into his clothes without drying off, and then hobbles to the kitchen, where he finally turns the stove off. The water in the kettle has evaporated completely, and the metal looks warped, disfigured by the heat that it was left on for far too long. Dick examines it, then sets it back on the stove to cool. He'll throw it away later. Buy a new kettle. Maybe an electric one, this time. </p><p>Finally, Dick returns to his room. Jason still sleeps peacefully, sprawled atop the covers. Dick lets himself collapse on the edge of the bed, staring at him. </p><p>He looks so young asleep. </p><p>Dick sits and watches Jason, and he thinks. His phone is on his nightstand. He could call someone now. </p><p>Call. Call and say, what? Say that he couldn’t fight Jason off? Say that he hadn’t really even tried? Admit to his failure, confess to it like a man seeking penitence? Let himself be judged, let <em>Jason </em>be judged? </p><p>Jason. </p><p>What he had done here - despite not being in his right mind, despite it not being his <em>fault </em>- would destroy him. </p><p>He’d never forgive himself. </p><p>Dick leans forward and brushes the hair away from Jason’s forehead. His eyes are burning, and Dick realizes that he’s crying again. Jason’s sleeping figure blurs in front of his eyes as Dick lets the tears fall, curling in on himself. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says, again. His hand combs through Jason’s hair, as though that would make up for how completely Dick failed him tonight. “I’m sorry,” he says, again and again and again, until he’s finally able to pull himself together. </p><p>He sniffs, then rubs at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. </p><p>Dick doesn’t know when Jason is going to wake up, but the least he can do is make sure Jason doesn’t feel vulnerable and off-balance, right from the start. He doesn’t want Jason to see the proof of what happened, doesn’t want it staring him in the face when he wakes. </p><p>Dick wipes at his face again, then gets to work. </p>
<hr/><p>Jason wakes in the afternoon. He wanders out of Dick’s bedroom, looking grumpy and confused, and finds Dick lying on the couch, watching some mindless television. </p><p>“What the fuck happened last night,” Jason says. He looks wary, like he’s about five seconds from crawling through the window and absconding via Dick’s fire escape. “Why am I here?”</p><p>Dick stares. Somehow, this possibility hadn’t quite occurred to him. He’d prepared for fighting, he’d prepared for having to do damage control on Jason’s self-destructive tendencies, he’d even prepared for Jason leaving before Dick even knew he was awake. </p><p>He hadn’t thought of Jason not remembering. </p><p>Jason shifts on his feet. Dick estimates about two seconds now before Jason decides that the window is a better option. </p><p>Time slows. </p><p>Here’s the thing:</p><p>Jason has been getting along so much better - not just with Dick, but with the rest of the family. Things have been smoothing out, Jason drifting back into the fold - slowly, yes, but surely. So close. </p><p>If Dick opened his mouth and told Jason what happened, he’d be destroying all that. He’d never see Jason again, and neither would anyone else in the family. </p><p>And Dick - he doesn’t want that. He’s selfish enough to admit it. </p><p>Here’s the other thing:</p><p>Dick is a very good liar. </p><p>Time speeds back up.</p><p>Dick makes peace with his decision, and he looks Jason in the eyes, and he opens his mouth, and he lies. </p><p>It’s not hard. Dick has cleaned up the room, and opened the window to air out the smell of sex. He’s gone through the painstaking effort of dressing Jason back in his gear, and covering up every mark on his own body with layers of clothes and bandages and make-up. For Jason, besides waking up in Dick’s bedroom, the night one dark, unfathomable hole in his memory, nothing is out of place.</p><p>It’s not hard at all. </p><p>Jason would never forgive himself for this. </p><p>So Dick has to make sure that he never knows there’s anything to forgive in the first place. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I've gotten into DC only recently over the past few months, so I'm still very new to the characters and setting. (Which, can I just say, I don't mean any offense by this, but comics are totally bizarre. I spent a month just trying to figure out where to <i>start</i>. Which probably says more about me than it does about DC, but still. Confusing. Are all comics like this?) Also, this is the first time I've written anything even vaguely close to smut. I'm usually a Gen person. With all that in mind, please forgive any mistakes, I'm still learning. </p><p>If there are any tags you think I should add or edit, please let me know.</p><p>Title is from this quote: 'There is a great deal of difference between keeping one's own secret and keeping a secret for another soul; so much so that I wish we had two words, that is, a word for a secret of one's own making, and a word for a secret that one did not make, and perhaps did not wish for, but has chosen to keep, all the same.' - Eleanor Catton, The Luminaries</p><p>This fic was written with a vague sequel in mind, but right now that exists only in my head, and I think this stands okay on its own, for now. </p><p>Last thing: if anyone is curious (and also because I love giving out music recs), I listened to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dQw4w9WgXcQ"> this</a> song on repeat while writing this fic. </p><p>Thank you very much for reading.</p><p>EDIT: I'm so incredibly mortified. I just tried to skim over this fic to catch any potential typos, and what did I find in the first five seconds? A continuity error from an earlier draft that I forgot to take out. If you saw it, thank you for not mentioning it and killing me on the spot, it's now been fixed. If you didn't see it, don't worry about it, it's gone forever. Thank you all again, you're all so lovely.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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